How to Fix a Wand
by qwerty19
Summary: Harry is perplexed. Ever since the graveyard incident in Little Hangleton, his wand has been causing him quite some trouble. He decides that going to Ollivanders might help, however his idea for a solution is quite... unexpected. Set between end of 4th year and beginning of 5th year. Warning: Hilarity and nonsense! One-shot.


WARNING: If you're allergic to laughing, don't read. It goes from Sirious, to comedy, to borderline crackfic, to comedy again,

So, last night, a bunny named Plot ran by me and I managed to catch it. I drew a picture of it, and posted it to you with the title...

How to Fix a Wand

To Harry James Potter, Diagon Alley has never felt so empty. The busy streets were no longer busy, the bustling crowd was no longer, well, bustling, and most of the windows were boarded up. The war was taking its toll on the citizens of Wizarding Britain, and it was displaying itself quite clearly.

The young wizard shook his head, pulled his robes closer to his thin, small body, as if it would protect him from the horrors outside, and continued walking. Piercing emerald eyes focused on their target, the ancient wand shop, Ollivander's, looking shabby and empty as usual. Comforted by the fact that at least one thing in his life was static, Harry trudged on. His issue wasn't drastic, but worrisome, nonetheless. Since the _Priori Incantatem_ in the graveyard, his wand hasn't been listening to him. It took almost three times the amount of magic just to perform the simplest of spells. He truly hoped this was a quick and easy fix. Although Mr. Ollivander was a professional, and Harry was confident in his abilities regarding anything with wands, he didn't like the man all that much. He had compared him to Voldemort when he was 11, which was understandably not the most pleasant of first impressions (The author of this mediocre, low-budget fanfiction would like to point out that this was likely a traumatic incident, and should not be done to other children. Bad Ollivander. Don't compare children to serial killers).

Harry walked in, hearing the familiar chime that greeted him every time he entered the dusty shop. He didn't see Ollivander, which was expected. The old man was probably working in the back. Harry waited a few minutes until he heard a voice coming from behind himself. "Hello, Harry Potter," it said. Harry froze up. From those three words, he had three thoughts in quick succession:

1\. Ollivander never called him Harry Potter, only Mr. Potter.

2\. The voice was far too feminine to be Ollivander.

3\. What in Merlin's Phoenix was Luna Lovegood doing here?

"Luna?" Harry managed to inquire through his puzzlement, "Why are you in Ollivander's wand shop? Is your wand giving you trouble, too?"

Luna smiled and gazed off into the distance, which was quite the feat considering how closed in the room was. "No, Harry Potter, my wand is quite fine. It appreciates your concern over its well being, and I thank you on its behalf." Harry decided not to question how a wand could be thankful or any further inquirers to her being here, because that took time, and he was here for one thing and one thing only. Mind you, he also wasn't the most patient of people, nor was he at all interested.

"I'm here as an intern for Mr. Ollivander." Suddenly, Harry was a bit more interested.

"Really? So, can you help me with my wand? It hasn't been working that well since the Priori Incantatem incident in the graveyard. It takes a considerable amount of energy to perform the simplest tasks; even a levitation charm makes me exhausted!"

"Let me take a look. I've been told I'm good at what I do. Well, for an intern, at least." Luna gingerly grabbed his wand with her pale, small fingers and thoroughly examined it with her unblinking, blue eyes. " _Priori Incantatem_ wouldn't do this, so that's not the problem," Harry's heart dropped a bit, "though I have a pretty good idea as to what to do." And thus, that very same heart was raised up by that very same bit.

"What do I have to do?"

Luna smiled at him, like the answer was obvious, "Did you try changing the batteries?"

It was times like these where Harry needed a vacation. "…Let me talk to Mr. Ollivander." Conveniently enough, a certain wand maker came out of the back room.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. I gather I am needed?" As always, Ollivander had that same creepy smile and that same creepy posture that just screamed, 'Stranger danger!' Now Harry knew he was in no danger, but the point remained that Ollivander was creepy.

Harry told Ollivander the same thing that he told Luna, that since the graveyard incident, the wand has been difficult to work with. Ollivander thought for a moment, and then looked up.

"Did you try changing the batteries?"

Harry vowed to check a travel site after he left, and maybe get a therapist while at it. "What?"

"Did you turn it off and on?"

"Off and on. What the heck?"

"Oh, dear. I guess he doesn't know how. Luna dear, can you please show him where the Genius Bar is?

"Gladly!" Harry was too stunned to do anything but let him be dragged by his strange friend to the Genius Bar that he was sure wasn't there before. "Excuse me, but my friend here doesn't know to turn his wand off and on."

Albus Dumbledore turned around from behind the bar and calmly informed Luna, "Oh, but you see, turning off and on a Holly wand will do nothing! You should be running Windows Diagnostics!"

Harry had had enough of this, and his famous temper was starting to show. "All right, that's enough. You _can't_ turn a wand off and on. You _can't_ run Windows Diagnostics on a wand, and you shouldn't run it on anything because it never works! And since WHEN do wands have batteries? Its power comes from the magical core! None of you are making any sense!"

Dumbledore calmly smiled at Harry over his half moon glasses, "My boy, I think you have it, as the muggles say, flop-flipped. It is you who makes no sense! A magical core? How silly a way to describe batteries!"

" _There are no batteries in my wand_! Batteries don't work around magic!" Because Harry Potter is Fate's Chew Toy, the universe decided that, at that precise moment, Voldemort just had to come in, wearing Augusta Longbottom's vulture hat, asking for a battery changing service for his wand.

Harry screamed at the absurdity of it all, then abruptly found himself back in his four-poster bed at Hogwarts, throat raw from screaming. He did a quick reality check.

His wand still worked.

It didn't have any issues since the graveyard incident (ignoring that failed transfiguration which put poor Neville in the Hospital Wing).

Luna Lovegood was not an intern for Ollivander.

Dumbledore did not work at a Genius Bar (at least Harry didn't think he did).

Voldemort did not request wand battery changing services.

Wands do NOT have batteries.

Life was good.

Satisfied with his reality check, he slowly climbed out of bed, about to start his morning routine, when Ron decided to interrupt him. "Hey, Harry! My wand is being troublesome. You got any 9 volts?"

Harry heard that the Bahamas were nice this time of year.


End file.
